Dirty Paws
by Gospel Stonemad
Summary: Sometimes something remarkable can appear out of something ordinary. A series of John and Sherlock's time in Hogwarts.
1. Rules and Regulations

**Chapter:** Rules and Regulations

**Chapter Number:** 1/100

**Characters:** The members of Hufflepuff House

**Year:** 1-7

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Every Hufflepuff has The List. Every Hufflepuff can add to The List.

**Word Count:** 1,648

**Notes:** Chapter one of _Dirty Paws_, a collection of One Shots following John and Sherlock during their seven years at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

**RULES FOR NEW HUFFLEPUFFS**

**TO BE HANDED OUT TO EVERY FIRST YEAR UPON THEIR FIRST TIME IN THE COMMON ROOM**

**DO NOT ADD TO THE LIST UNLESS GIVEN PERMISSION BY NYMPHADORA TONKS, ANNA SPRINGFIELD, CEDRIC DIGGORY**

1. Do not mention or show this list to Sherlock Holmes or John Watson.

2. Yes, they know about the list, you are still not allowed to show it to them.

3. John's birthday is August 7th, remind him that you have not forgotten it.

a. If you want to get/send him a gift; he likes books on Defence and Quidditch supplies would not go amiss.

3. Sherlock's birthday is January 6th, do not vocally remind him of it. He hates it.

a. Sherlock likes books. If you want to get him something, get him books. Any type of books; muggle or magical, he doesn't care.

b. If muggle books: he enjoys the sciences. Chemistry and Biology are his favourite. Do not get him pulp fiction. He is a factual person.

4. If the password to the common room changes, tell them at breakfast. Neither of them will ask.

a. Try not to change the password in the middle of the day. It's cruel and will not be tolerated.

5. The table and chairs by the unicorn tapestry are theirs.

a. Do not touch anything left on said table.

b. Do not move said table.

c. Do not sit at said table unless you are invited to do so.

d. Do not eat off said table unless Sherlock or John says it is okay

THIS IS A SERIOUS HEALTH HAZARD. _**DO NOT EAT OFF THE TABLE.**_

6. Don't ask them when they're going to go back to their common rooms.

7. Don't mention the fact that they're in the wrong common room at all.

8. Don't ask why they're with us and not with their housemates. It's rude.

9. If they fall asleep in the common room, don't alert anyone to it.

a. If they stay the entire night, do not tell any of the professors, prefects, or head students.

b. If anyone asks, no, they went back to their own common rooms late and were back extremely early.

10. If Sherlock is sleeping, do not wake him up. He needs all the sleep he can get.

11. If Sherlock is not sleeping, keep blankets and pillows free and close by in the common room.

12. If Sherlock is awake and it's really late, offer up the place by the fire and a blanket.

13. If John and Sherlock are both awake, leave them alone.

14. They are both invited to all Hufflepuff parties.

15. John likes all sorts of tea. Offer to drink some with him when Sherlock isn't there.

16. Do not tell Sherlock he needs to eat more. He knows he does. Pointing it out is cruel.

17. If you have a cat and Sherlock likes it, it can stay. If he doesn't like it, keep it away from the lounge area.

a. If John doesn't like said cat it is not allowed in the common rooms at all.

18. Friends/partners who make fun of Sherlock or John are not permitted to come back.

19. Do not let John clean the entire common room. If you make a mess, clean it up yourself. He's not your maid.

20. Always get enough food from the kitchens for three and share with them.

21. Sherlock will only eat some types of meat or fruit with honey across the top.

a. Do not put food upon Sherlock's plate. He or John will do it.

22. John is not picky, but he does like spicier food than most.

23. Donate all books you don't want to Sherlock. We're pretty sure he has a library in that trunk of his.

a. If you need a book, go to him. He most likely has it.

24. If any Gryffindor/Slytherin ask for Sherlock or John they are never in.

a. The password for accepted people are Pongo and British Government.

b. If people do not give you the password then they are not allowed at all.

c. Luna Lovegood is always allowed.

25. Do not mother either of them.

26. If anyone knows anything about broomstick care, help John out with his.

27. Yes, John is allowed at the Hufflepuff Quidditch practices. He is also allowed to be up in the air with the team.

28. If you want to give them something, give it to John.

a. Say it's from your mother. John cannot refuse mothers.

b. Sherlock will also know you're lying. Don't be daunted by that.

c. Sherlock will also never say thank you. He is thankful.

29. Whatever Sherlock just said, no, he didn't mean it like that. He's just awful at talking with people.

30. Allow John to do damage control.

a. Some butterbeers will also not go amiss between affronted parties.

31. John and Sherlock will solve problems for you. This is a privilege, not a right.

a. They can turn you away.

b. Do not tell them about your dating problems; neither of them care.

c. If you do ask them to figure something out for you, give them a gift in appreciation—they offer to do it for free but that doesn't mean they should.

32. If you have money left over for Christmas presents, quills, ink, parchment, potion supplies, and various books would not go amiss.

33. Do not ask them why they are staying for the holidays.

a. If you happen to be staying the holidays with them, let them stay in the common room. The House elves will place their presents accordingly.

34. Do not ask where they are going for the summer holidays.

35. Don't ask about their home life at all.

36. Sherlock and John don't celebrate Easter, give them an egg anyway.

37. Sherlock's owl is named Athena, yes, you may borrow her if you don't have your own. Give her a treat when she's finished.

38. The emergency fund is hidden behind a stone in the third floor boys dorm. That money is for Sherlock and John only. Neither contribute to it and they should never know about it.

39. In an emergency, send a letter to Mycroft Holmes.

40. If Sherlock admits to being sick, he's probably dying. Get to John immediately and then go for Madame Pomfrey.

a. If there is a medical emergency of any kind, inform John ASAP

41. Comments about Sherlock and John's experiments and staying up late is neither welcome or appreciated.

42. Do not get either of them involved in dorm battles. You may be right, but they are Switzerland.

43. If they are fighting remind both of them that they're terrible at social interaction and then put them in close proximity. Most fights are solved in this manner.

44. There is a chart on the wall next to their table. This shall be followed religiously; if neither are back by their last class and are not at dinner, remember to check the Astronomy tower, the Silver and Gold room (password changes, be sure you're up to date!), and the kitchens. If they are still missing, contact a professor.

a. Remember that they take long walks around the lake on weekends.

b. Follow these steps to the letter. Professor McGonagall gets pretty twitchy if she just finds them lounging around on the lawn.

45. Sherlock is incredibly good at Potions and Transfiguration; he is willing to tutor.

46. Same with John in regards to Charms and DADA.

47. Neither Sherlock nor John get the newspaper, give them yours once you're finished.

48. If you are having family problems and cannot go home, speak with the two of them no matter how late. They will help you.

49. If you are being bullied, inform John and he'll help you out.

a. If any of your friends are being bullied, inform John.

b. Do not go to Sherlock, he will probably commit murder.

50. Do not expect Sherlock to remember dates. That's why John is there.

51. Sherlock will play his violin whenever he wants to, let him.

a. If the sound is distracting you, tell him and he'll put a ward around their area to silence it.

b. Do not touch the violin.

52. Do not make any derogatory comment about John's jumpers.

53. Do not give Sherlock cigarettes or any drugs. Just because he's old enough does not mean he should have them.

54. Do not get John drunk.

55. Do not ask Sherlock about the skull and crossbones painted on his bag or the picture of the dog in his potions text. It's really none of your business.

56. Yes, Sherlock will know all about your life in an instant. Do not get affronted by it, he can't help it.

57. Be sure that any and all injuries are actually real and not stage makeup before going to find John. If John is there and not panicking, all injuries are most likely makeup.

58. Do not touch Sherlock's things. Most of them are covered in curses and foul potions to deter bullies.

a. Same thing with John's

59. Professor Sprout knows that Sherlock and John are often in our common room. You do not have to keep it a secret.

a. You should keep the scorch marks behind the unicorn plant a secret, though.

60. Do not make any passing remarks about how either of them look after the summer hols.

61. Do not get into a prank war with them unless you are willing to face the consequences.

a. They are friends with the Weasley twins

62. Do not enter any sort of bet with Sherlock unless you are ready to lose.

a. This is a good excuse to give them things if you're looking for one.

a. John never loses either

63. Any remarks on blood status are not appreciated and the offender will be removed from the common room immediately.

a. If they are a Hufflepuff, they will face disciplinary action from the entire house.


	2. Tapestry of Fate

_**Tapestry of Fate**_

**Characters:** Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** The Hat may have done it on purpose. Sherlock will never be able to prove it.

* * *

Huddled together at the back of the group, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes weren't paying attention to the hat or the stool but had their heads tilted backwards, watching the sky.

"That one?" Sherlock murmured, pointing up.

"Polaris," John put his hands in his robe pockets.

Humming, Sherlock turned his eyes over the rest of the stars. "Those?"

"Ursa minor."

"Hm?"

The blonde grinned. "Little bear or the little dipper."

Making a face, Sherlock turned to look at the taller boy beside him. "It doesn't look like a bear."

John shrugged. "I didn't name them."

"That's frightfully boring," He looked back at the hat, back at the witches and wizards in the front of the Great Hall, the four tables with students packing into seats in front of empty plates. Something must have finished, because people were clapping, but neither boy had been paying attention. "The sorting," Sherlock said when John leaned over, watching as a roll of parchment was pulled out, McGonagall clearing her throat to gain silence.

"Abbey, Michael," was called up first; a squat boy with round cheeks and strawberry blond hair. He gripped the sides of the stool with white knuckled hands, the hat dropping down past his eyes, sat there for a few second, and then opened the tear in its brim to yell "GRYFFINDOR!" to the students and professors listening.

The table to the far right exploded in applause, a red and gold banner above their heads with a lion in the centre. Sherlock watched them for a second before his eyes turned to the house of blue and bronze, his gaze captured by the sharp eyes of his brother, daring him and flashing from him to the stool where "Abel, Olivia" was crawling up on the stool.

Tapping fingers, a nervous tick, but all the students were nervous so it didn't really—

"RAVENCLAW!"

Sherlock cursed as Mycroft gave him a small grin. A smug grin—one to challenge and to dare. The first year scowled back and turned away with a huff, arms crossing over his thin chest.

John glanced at him curiously, looking between him and the first years climbing up to the front. "Are you trying to guess?" He whispered and someone at the Slytherin table hissed at them to be quiet.

Sneering at them, Sherlock turned back to the sorting. "Abraham, Micah" and "Achilles, Cabel" were both placed in Slytherin, followed by "Addison, Anna" in Gryffindor and "Avery, McKenna" in Hufflepuff.

"Hufflepuff," Sherlock guessed for "Badcock, Roderick," and heard a small cheer from John as the boy headed for the house of black and yellow. A bright smile spread across his features before he caught Mycroft looking at him again and he fidgeted in something close to embarrassment (but that was ridiculous, Holmes' didn't _feel_ embarrassment), turning back to the hat and the stool even as a shot of pleasure went through him.

The delicious burn of satisfaction filled his chest with fire.

John's grin got wider at each one he got right though his wide hand squeezed the smaller student's shoulder when he got "Dickson, Barbra," wrong. "You'll get the hang of it," the blond boy said, and started to point to people around them, asking him to figure out their houses before they even went up.

"Gryffindor," Sherlock murmured to John when he pointed to himself and giggled when the other boy stood up straighter, proud.

Finally, there were "Garner... Hale... Harris," and finally—

"Holmes, Sherlock."

Ducking past the other students—most of which were taller than he, unfortunately—Sherlock made his way to the front of the Great Hall, climbing up to sit on the stool and let the hat be placed over his head. It dropped down past his eyes, blocking out the stares from the other students, leaving him alone in the dark.

_Another Holmes,_ a voice spoke in his head. _Quite a distance between you and your brother._

An image of Mycroft appeared in his mind and Sherlock gripped the stool tighter before relaxing his grip.

_No need to get defensive, little one, I was merely observing._ The hat chuckled and Sherlock huffed. _Now, where to put you... Not Gryffindor, no. You have heart, though, and you should always remember to keep it._

Shifting on the stool, the boy sighed. _Myke doesn't think so._

_I am thousands of years older than your brother, Sherlock Holmes. _The Sorting Hat said almost scornfully. _Do you think he knows better than me? Hm?_

Sherlock stayed silent.

The Hat huffed in victory. _Exactly. I do believe Hufflepuff would do you well, but not as your house. Friends can always be made in the house of the badgers; they will stand by you even when the world is falling. Ravenclaw... now, that would be an interesting fit. The Holmes are known for being wise and knowledgeable. Sixteen generations have been sorted into Ravenclaw, did you know?_

Yes, yes he knew.

_But there is not just wit to you, Sherlock Holmes. You do not hoard knowledge like a dragon would guard treasure in muggle fairytales._ The Hat harrumphed. _Your mind is applied, focused. You want to become something no one has ever been before and use all of your resources to achieve your dreams. Good luck, little pirate, you will achieve the greatest of heights in _"SLYTHERIN!" It shouted the last word to the Great Hall, taken off Sherlock's head as the table filled with silver and green erupted into cheers.

Scrambling towards them, Sherlock returned John's grin and sought out his brother among the mass of blue and bronze—he was unsmiling, eyes sharp, but he clapped his hands together twice, nodding to Sherlock before turning his gaze back up front. Sitting between other first years, the small boy cleared his face, sat up, and followed his brother's example of watching the rest of the sorting.

"Ivers", followed him, with the J's, K's, and L's in a swift march behind. Two twins joined Slytherin, their faces dark and hair black with the accents of the house of the snakes spinning around them.

"Ramires, Maria" was sent swiftly to Ravenclaw and, finally (the last first year standing), "Watson, John" was called up to the hat.

The blond boy stepped easily, a small grin on his face as he sat on the stool, eyes meeting Sherlock's for a split second before the hat descended over them, stopped by the bridge of his nose. Silence filled the Great Hall, a pause that seemed to freeze the air as magic seemed to spin, destiny weaving bright thread into the tapestry of fate.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

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Review if it fancies you~

Happy Reading.

Gospel


	3. Fierce and Loyal

**Title:** Fierce and Loyal

**Characters:** Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Minerva McGonagall

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Sherlock and John silently agreed to never conform to what others wanted them to be.

* * *

The first time it happened, it was breakfast on the first day and Sherlock simply turned around and made his way out of the Great Hall. The Gryffindors moved to cover open seats near John, watching him with sneers and narrowed eyes that made him want to take those scarlet and gold ties around their necks and tighten them just a bit more. For a second, the Slytherin considered turning their robes green and silver instead of violent actions before deciding against it—the house of the lions was just as prejudiced as his own was. The only thing about his leaving, though, was that John followed, pushing the people who had moved into the seats close to him out of the way with a roughness that was so unlike his bright demeanour that one person actually fell to the floor, caught off balance.

Both fled before McGonagall could come and see what the commotion was about.

When the break for lunch came, they walked into the Great Hall together and went immediately to the table of Slytherins. Sneers greeted them and Sherlock himself wasn't even able to get a seat. So he stole one of the prefect's plate—ignoring the shouting that followed him after that because, _honestly_, it was their own damn fault—and ate the apple slices while John had the sandwich.

Dinner came, and they entered the hall shoulder to shoulder.

"No," Sherlock said when John tried to pull him over to the Gryffindors. "Here," he motioned to the sea of yellow and black, looked over all the people, and quickly found a seventh year—tall, but not imposing, and laughing with his friends.

There was a badge pinned to his robes that announced him as the Head Boy, so Sherlock stepped forward, John quickly scampering behind. The first years were too short to tap the Hufflepuff on the shoulder, so the Slytherin gently tugged on his robes instead. "Excuse me?"

Blinking, the seventh year glanced down at them before a wiry grin split his face. "What can I help you with?" He had an open, rounded face; wide brown eyes with a splash of freckles over his nose.

"Can we sit at your table?" Sherlock didn't even bother to hide his Slytherin colours or John's red and gold, knowing that the badges on their robes would speak for themselves.

He looked over the two of them before his eyes softened a bit. "Of course—don't even have to ask." The Head Boy scooted further down the bench, leaving room for the two first years to sit down. John reached forward, immediately filling their plates with food while Sherlock placed their bags under the table, by their feet.

"Thank you," John said when Sherlock was busy poking at his shepherd's pie and the Head Boy nodded and turned back to his friends. "I like it better here," the Gryffindor turned to his friend.

Sherlock hummed a bit and looked up. "Here?"

"With the Hufflepuffs."

Nodding, the Slytherin looked back down and ignored his plate to fish out a journal from his bag. He read over a few things, drew his Sycamore wand from his sleeve, and pointed it at John's robes. Muttering under his breath, the smaller boy blinked, and looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Looking down, John laughed at the sudden yellow and black of his robes and tie. "You missed the lion," he tapped the Gryffindor crest and Sherlock's face pinched in concentration before relaxing.

"I don't know the spell for that."

"Can't be perfect," John shrugged and leaned closer. "How do I do yours?"

So Sherlock told him and found himself with his own bumble bee colorations. They grinned at each other, not bothering to cancel the spells and simply turned back to their suppers. The Slytherin pushed away the pie and reached for a bowl of fruit that appeared in the centre of the table instead, nibbling on slices of pineapple as John watched. "Do you only eat fruit?"

Shifting his legs around, Sherlock frowned in thought. "Yes."

"You're the pickiest eater I've ever met," but John was smiling.

The Slytherin huffed. "Well—"

"Mr. Watson. Mr. Holmes." Both boys turned to glance up at Professor McGonagall. Their heads were craned slightly, necks already aching. She was _tall_. "Is there any particular reason as to why you are not at your own tables?"

"We're Hufflepuffs now," John said, his face serious even as he pulled up his newly charmed tie so she could see the black and yellow pattern. "So, technically, we are at the right table."

The Head Boy looked slightly proud at that—it was rare, after all, for people to want to be part of the badger house.

"Though, we haven't asked the Ravenclaws yet," John turned to Sherlock. "Shall we try sitting with them tomorrow?"

Looking up from his fruit, the brunette frowned before shaking his head. "Not tomorrow, no. Maybe next week? We can switch between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"I'm afraid that you cannot just switch houses—"

"Neither of us want to be in houses with bigoted, stupid arses of individuals," Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the Head of Gryffindor even as she opened her mouth to scold him for his language. "They're a bit prejudiced, too—which I really cannot understand because isn't the house of the Lions supposed to be full of chivalry? I guess it only goes so far, or that bullying takes priority. The Slytherins aren't really better; I'm actually fairly proud. They've unified to make two first years feel alienated from their peers." He shrugged and turned to look at the Head Boy. "The Hufflepuffs have been kind; I think I would have been proud to be in their house. It certainly would have been more preferable than not being able to get breakfast and having a tiny lunch."

John was still looking up at McGonagall. "I think the better question would not be 'why are we not sitting with our houses' but rather 'who forced us into _not_ being comfortable enough to sit with them'."

"Don't point your finger at the victim; point it at the offender." Sherlock sniffed and turned back to his meal, finding more fruit on his plate than before and turned a glare on John who just grinned innocently back. "The offenders in this case happen to be two entire houses. So, Professor…"

The Gryffindor grinned as he finished the other boy's sentence. "What are _you_ going to do about it?" Together, they turned their back on the deputy headmistress and went back to eating. Well, John went back to eating, Sherlock stabbed his fork into a bit of sausage that had suddenly appeared on his plate and snarled at it.

Over the course of the next week, they didn't sit with the Ravenclaws, but the Hufflepuffs formed around them in their classes, inviting them to sit with them both in the Great Hall and out around the castle. A fourth year (Tonks, she liked to be called) made them both a little badger badge to wear on their robes announcing them as honorary Hufflepuffs. Before the year was over, however, the Head Boy (who had introduced himself as Domino Scofield) asked them why they had thought to sit with them in the first place.

"Badgers are ferocious and loyal and kind," Sherlock had stated, his hair a bright blue with yellow stripes from an earlier charms accident, "And no one would take a pirate in bronze and blue, wearing an eagle, seriously."

"Badger's aren't the most ferocious creature in the wild," Scofield shrugged as other Hufflepuffs leaned in, curious and hardly bothering to hide it.

The Slytherin levelled him with a look, eyebrows up on his forehead, eyes wide in surprise. "Badgers are related to wolverines," he said simply. "There _is_ no fiercer creature in the wild."

Sherlock still had a suspicion all the way to his seventh year that the amount of fruity sweets he got in the mail that week had something to do with that conversation. But because one of the baskets involved a pirate hat, he really didn't mind.

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Review if you want, sorry this one's a bit late; I went to go see a Shakespeare performance with a couple of friends.

Happy reading!

Gospel.


	4. Lord of the Swarming Bumble Bees

_**Lord of the Swarming Bumble Bees**_

**Characters:** John Watson, Barry Cropper, Maria Ramirez

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** It's a wonder why no one ever tried to recruit Hufflepuffs as minions.

**Notes:** Number 12 (Whisper) of the 100 Word Prompt Challenge. All Oneshots are Potterlock.

* * *

"You know," Barry Cropper said, leaning in as if he was simply sharing something he read in the Daily Prophet that morning. "If you knew a bit more about magical history you wouldn't be friends with _him_."

John looked up from his charms work and glanced at the blue and bronze tie the other boy was wearing. "Really," the blonde's voice was flat, tired already of having this conversation four times in the past week with several other Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. "You're a bit of a bully yet I'm still having a conversation with _you_." He pointed out.

Cropper flushed and reeled back as if John had physically struck him. "I'm just trying to warn you—"

"No," John pointed one finger at the other boy's nose. "No, you're not. You're being an arse."

Maria Ramires snickered while she practiced the levitation charm again, having no sympathy for her fellow eagle even as Bella Elder, the Gryffindor she was working with, gasped at the boy's crude language and dropped her wand.

"Fine," Cropper snarled, picking up his books and moving. "If you don't want my advice—"

"I really don't," John wondered if he could charm the feather into poking the Ravenclaw in the eye.

"—Then I'll just let him _prove_ it to you."

John sighed as if he was on one of the street corners of London, listening to another person preach about how the world was going to end and everyone was doomed. "You do that." He went back to his text, ignoring the whispers and looks that were aimed his way until Elder screeched, leaping out of her seat as her feather exploded, Ramires laughing with her arms wrapped around her stomach at the terror on the other girl's face. Flitwick raced over to help put out the flames and the Ravenclaw pushed her chair over to John in the commotion.

"They're all a bunch of assholes," She told him, tilting her chair back on two of its legs. "The Holmes family didn't participate in the war, you see? They were neutral on both fronts."

Furrowing his brow, John frowned. "Really?"

Ramires shrugged, waving her wand at her feather and making it dance with his. "There are only rumours, see, you'll have to ask Sherlock what really happened, but the Holmes' were approached by Dumbledore and asked to help out with the resistance. All everyone remembers is that the Holmes said no. But during the trials, none of the Death Eaters ever confessed to the Holmes family being in their ranks."

"But because they said no to Dumbledore, everyone automatically assumes...?" John frowned thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Ramires said, watching as the flames on her desk were finally put out.

The Gryffindor snorted. "That's rubbish, maybe they just don't like him?"

"The Holmes family doesn't like to get involved with fighting," Ramires grinned toothily, her white teeth bright against her dark face. "Sherlock is a bit of a phenomenon, actually."

John blinked and frowned, thinking about the small black haired boy with his pale skin, the light freckles on his cheeks, his bright grey eyes that seemed to change colours depending upon the lighting and what he was standing in front of. "Why?"

"He's the first Holmes to ever go into Slytherin."

For a second, the only sound between them was that of their feathers still dancing on the table, tips brushing against the wood like small brooms. "So people think he's going to be the next Dark Lord because he went into Slytherin?"

Ramires sighed heavily, as if the stupidity of the world was a burden on her shoulders. "People are morons. But they also aren't." Their eyes met. "I think Sherlock _has_ the potential to be something great. But what he does with that greatness... I think it's all up to you, John Watson."

"Me?" No pressure, he thought darkly. "Thanks."

She laughed at him. "Oh, John. He's happy with you as his friend. You help him be kind, something no one else can see. And he didn't surround himself with Slytherins, he surrounded himself with Hufflepuffs." The Ravenclaw gave him a wide grin. "I hardly think that's the sign of a Dark Lord in the making, don't you?"

John thought it over and felt his heart lighten even as he snickered. "I think they would make _outstanding_ minions," he answered instead. "There would be no worries of any of them changing sides, they'd fight to the death for their friends—"

"Merlin," she breathed, giggles escaping. "You're _right_. They're _terrifying_!"

"Army of Badgers!"

"Behold the pungent Badger King! The Lord of the Swarming Bumble Bees!"

John was laughing out loud now, joined by Ramires while the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stared at them, just a tiny bit scared as to whether or not the two of them had actually lost it.

"Feel better?" The Ravenclaw asked as their laughter died to giggles.

Giving her a sunny smile, John waved his wand at Cropper's feather across the room, snickering as it burst into flame and the boy scrambled out of his seat like the fire was some dangerous creature ready to pounce and eat him alive. "Yes," he said. "I do."

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Remember to review if you liked,

Happy Reading,

Gospel


	5. Bad News

_**Bad News**_

**Characters:** Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Caring is not an advantage.

* * *

Mycroft's owl, Viva, arrived at breakfast and ignored her owner entirely to flap down towards the Hufflepuff table with a note clutched in her talons. The large black bird swooped over other students and landed between Sherlock and John, startling both boys into awareness, the Slytherin almost spilling his bowl of fruit across his lap.

Scowling at Viva, Sherlock reached forward to grab the note but the owl jumped away, wings slapping the short boy on the side of his head. Huffing, he turned back to his meal, the Gryffindor left to reach for the parchment presented to him.

Sherlock was chomping on an apple slice when John's fork landed on his plate. The clatter startled Viva into taking off, screeching down at them before she took off towards her owner, stealing her own breakfast from him. Looking up at the blond, the Slytherin watched his hands shake as he held the note, his eyes dark yet wide.

"I have to go," John murmured and Sherlock watched him gather his things before snapping into action and following.

"John!" The shorter boy called as the Gryffindor raced out of the Great Hall doors. "_John_! Wait!" He managed to get to the staircase, but the other boy was already gone. "John...?" Sherlock murmured and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking up, the small boy found himself beside Mycroft, his older brother's eyes soft before guiding him up the steps. "Myke—"

The Ravenclaw drew him off to the side, into an unused classroom. "Sherlock," for once, his brother looked as though he didn't know what to say. "John will be going through a difficult time—"

"Why?" Sherlock wrung the strap of his messenger bag. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Mycroft's lips pinched, his brow furrowing as he fought internally. "That's up to John to tell you." He said at last and placed his hand on Sherlock's head. "He'll need you, though. Sentiment—"

"Friendship," Sherlock corrected softly and winced as his older brother looked down on him. For a moment the two brothers stood together, silence between them that was only broken by the younger releasing a long breath he had been holding in.

"He will be going through a rough time and will expect you to comfort him." Mycroft continued, as if Sherlock hadn't said anything, his eyes sharp while he looked down on his brother, examining him as if he was a truly interesting creature out on the lawn of Hogwarts. "Can you handle that?"

Gritting his teeth, the Slytherin bit back on the words he wanted to say. "Yes," he said instead, straightening his shoulders, squaring his shoulders.

The Ravenclaw nodded once and walked around his younger brother, heading back to the door and paused with his hand on the door knob. "Be careful, Sherlock. Caring is not an advantage."

Sherlock didn't move, staying still until Mycroft had left, relaxing with a great whoosh of breath, turning to stare at the door his brother walked through. The wood seemed to glare back at him, accusing him of getting to close, judging him like the harsh stares of the Ravenclaw that had already left.

_You have heart,_ the Hat had said.

No well meaning Holmes had never been remembered.

Digging his fingers into his hair, Sherlock slid down the nearest wall, curling up so his forehead pressed against his knees.

_Caring is not an advantage._

Sherlock didn't want an advantage.

He wanted a friend.

It took him two hours to hunt down John Watson.

Taking refuge on the Quidditch pitch, the taller boy was ignoring his classes for the day, sitting up high in the Hufflepuff section where he could watch the forest and the lake. The sky was clear, but the wind whipped around them, chilly and nipping at their skin. Fall was rising, winter was coming, and November loomed on the horizon.

"I didn't really know her," John said when his friend sat down. He didn't look at the Slytherin, eyes firmly fixed ahead. "She was always gone, always away and we only saw each other during Christmas." Picking at the edges of his red and gold scarf, the Gryffindor sighed. "I won't even see a difference," he murmured. "I don't even feel _sad_."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his legs, staying quiet because there wasn't much he _could_ say. It hardly took any time to figure out who the other boy was talking about; old enough to work, gone most of the time. It wouldn't have mattered for a sister or a brother; younger children got used to their siblings being away at school.

Mother, then.

_Caring is not an advantage._

Gritting his teeth, the Slytherin dug his nails into his knees. _Piss off,_ he told the Mycroft in his head. "Do you think you should feel sad?" he asked John.

Was it a victory that the Gryffindor finally turned his gaze away from the forest and the lake?

"I don't know," John murmured and bit his lip. "Do _you_ think I should?"

"Me?" Sherlock pointed one finger at himself, blinking his wide eyes. "You think I'm the best person to ask that question? _Really_?" The Slytherin snorted. "I have the emotional comprehension of a fish, John. A _dead_ fish."

Indigo eyes blinked and then the blond was scowling. "You do _not_, Sherlock. Don't say that about yourself."

"It's true—"

"No, it's not," John snapped and both boys found themselves glaring at the other before turning away. A wind whipped between them, sending their scarves flapping against their arms and slapping their shoulders. "We're both a bit broken, aren't we?"

Sherlock shrugged and hugged his knees closer. "Maybe," he mumbled and felt a hand work across his shoulders. "Aren't I the one who's supposed to be comforting you?"

Arms tightened around the Slytherin so he couldn't squirm away. "This _is_ comforting to me," John managed, burying his face into black curls. "You're the little brother I never had."

"I'm older than you," Sherlock grumbled but turned into the embrace anyways.

"Schematics."

* * *

Happy Reading!

Gospel


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